La Bohème
by chocolate-moosey
Summary: It happened on a night so innocuous that Ciel wasn't even mildly surprised when a reaper crept in through his window. RonaldXCiel


"**La Boh****è****me"**

**By Chocolate Moosey**

_For Marina_

**xxxxxxx**

**Night One**

It happened on a night so innocuous that Ciel wasn't even mildly surprised when a reaper crept in through his window. It seemed that no day could go smoothly for the young earl without a supernatural being arriving to complicate matters (his demon butler notwithstanding). And the day had gone so swimmingly thus far; Ciel had managed to entertain a guest (a crazed old American whose husband had left her an ungodly heap of money and guns) and seal a fabulous deal with her firearms company. The earl had been surprised that Sebastian had not had to intervene, but then again when one's guest was constantly at war with imaginary Native Americans, business prospects were the least of their worries. The woman had all but thrown her money at Ciel, not even bothering to hear about the young man's ideas on expansion into weaponry.

She now slept in a guestroom directly below Ciel, as peaceful as a crazed old woman could. For the first few minutes after Sebastian had practically tucked her in, the woman had banged about the room, chanting at the imaginary ghosts and upsetting her host greatly. After Sebastian had arrived at her room with some narcotic-laced tea, things had quickly become pleasantly quiet.

As usual, Ciel was quick to fall asleep once the woman had settled down, but despite his feather-light unconsciousness, an unexpected guest had managed to slip past Sebastian's notice and into Ciel's bedroom. One moment, Ciel had been dreaming pleasantly of business expansion, and the next his mattress was creaking with the weight of an unwelcome intruder. Before he had a change to grab the Smith and Wesson tucked beneath his pillow, a small foreign object hit his face, and a pair of gloved hands slammed down over his mouth.

"_Shit, shit, shit!_" The intruder chanted unceremoniously, groping around with one hand while he pinned the flailing earl beneath him with the other. "_My glasses! _Don't scream! _Please_ don't scream Mrs. Winchester—I'm sorry about this, aw _shit_. Don't worry, don't fight me, it's just the Grim Reaper! Uh, your life was a good, long one but now it's time to join your relatives—you see, you're having a pretty bad reaction to the narcotics in that tea you just drank and—."

At this point, Ciel ceased flailing and cocked his brow as the blond-and-black blur managed to find his glasses with his groping hand. "_The_ Grim Reaper?" Ciel inquired, peeling the gloved fingers from his mouth. "I wasn't aware there was only one."

The reaper pinning him froze as he managed to right his glasses. "Well. Uh. You're not a fifty-four year old woman."

"No." Said Ciel, glaring as the strange man clambered off of him. "No I am not. What are you doing in my mansion?"

"Well, this is awkward." The reaper began to scratch at the back of his head, twisting his neck this way and that. "Sorry to bug you, but I'll just be on my way. Uh. This is _allll_ a dream, go back to sleep!" He waved his arms in a way that was probably supposed to be mysterious and began to back towards the open window.

Ciel stared, uncertain if he should call upon Sebastian or not. The woman _had_ just handed a considerable amount of wealth over Ciel, and it was certainly not his problem if she were to die a… _semi_-accidental death (of course to rule out poisoning and raised eyebrows, Ciel could just pay Undertaker off to claim that the cause of death was something completely unrelated). Before the earl decided if he cared or not, the reaper was out the window, shutting it behind him before he began the precarious climb down the face of the Phantomhive manor.

**xxxxxxx**

**Night Two**

After a long day of body-removal and paying off the hysterical Undertaker, the earl was certainly ready for a well-deserved sleep.

Ciel's head had hardly hit the pillow when the window burst open and the young reaper tumbled in, clutching a black cap to his head. The earl sat erect, his revolver loaded and cocked in his hand. Upon seeing a loaded gun pointed at him, the bespectacled reaper released an _eek_ noise and dived behind the boudoir, craning his head out from behind it timidly.

"_Please_ don't point that thing at me. I'd prefer not to be perforated." He begged, holding up his cap in surrender. Ciel's eyes remained diamond-hard.

"What are you doing in my bedroom again?" He demanded in a near-sneer, lowering the revolver to his lap. The reaper stepped out from the boudoir, making a small, sheepish noise as he worried his odd had.

"I just wanted to apologize." He said with a little wave. "I actually know a friend of yours—Grell Sutcliffe—and she said—."

Ciel's hackles rose, his aunt's bloody corpse splayed in his mind. He aimed the gun again, "That _thing _is _not _my _friend_." He growled. "Now _get_ _out_, you cur."

The reaper made another noise of fright and hit the floor at the foot of Ciel's bed. The earl crawled over the sheets, still aiming his gun at the reaper's forehead. Upon closer inspection, this reaper was not much older-looking than Ciel (eighteen at the time), looking perhaps not even twenty. Gold hair lay shockingly bright over jet black, and his chartreuse eyes were pinched in horror at the barrel of the gun. Ciel lowered the revolver from the young reaper's soft, expressive face, lip curling up a bit.

"M-maybe friend was a bit too loose a term. Uh. I know someone you know and he said I should apologize because uh. Reasons." The reaper said, attempting to pick himself up from the floor. The earl continued to stare blankly.

"Because reasons."

"Uh-hunh."

"…get the hell out of my bedroom."

"Okay, well!" The reaper smiled brightly, brusquely traipsing towards the window. "It was nice meeting you… uh?"

"Ciel." He spoke calmly, though his eyes were still narrowed. "Ciel Phantomhive."

"Right. I'm Ronnie—I mean Ronald Knox! I should…" He inched towards the window, flailing blindly for the handle as he continued to smile nervously at Ciel. "I should just go, okay?"

"Yes." The earl nodded curtly. "Yes you should."

He watched the reaper go, making sure that the window was locked afterwards.

**xxxxxxx**

**Night Three**

When Ciel's window clicked open for the third time, he resolved to shoot the reaper.

The gun fired, clicking on an empty port in the revolver, and the earl swore, glaring livid daggers at the pale reaper.

"You almost _shot_ me." Ronald gasped. Ciel swore again, tossing the gun away and climbing out of bed.

"Well, I didn't." He seized the reaper by the shoulders, steering him back towards the window. Iron bars would be a good addition to the mansion's decorum, yes. "Now _get the bloody hell out of my room_!"

"I just wanted to get my hat!" Ronald flailed back up against Ciel, fighting the pressure upon his arms before he dived under the bed, extracting the strange black cap from the night before. "I'm really sorry to keep bugging you, man."

"You should be." Ciel snapped, wondering why he hadn't strangled the reaper yet. Perhaps he was feeling generous that day. "Now leave before I—." He froze, finally having the chance to eye the cap up close. "What is that?"

"This?" Ronald cocked his head, holding up the hat innocently. "This is a fedora."

Ciel frowned, yanking it from Ronald's hands and turning it in his own. He placed the article upon his head and turned to admire it in the mirror upon the boudoir. "A fedora?" He repeated, unsure of why he was so fascinated. "I've never seen anything like it before."

"It's getting popular in America." The reaper explained, folding his arms over his chest with a broad grin. "Do you wanna keep it?"

"Keep—?" Ciel began, going to remove the hat. But before he could return it, Ronald already had one leg out the window.

"You take care Ciel, bye!"

Ciel stared at the window for a long time, grasping the odd hat lightly and wondering what had just conspired.

**xxxxxxx**

**Night Four**

"Ciellllll."

The earl jumped awake, gun cocked before he had time register the _thump_ of a boneless body on the floor. There was a stray hiccup and Ronald began to crawl across the carpet towards the bed, attempting to adjust his skewed spectacles. "Ciel, I'm _drunnnnk_."

"Lovely." Said Ciel, wrinkling his nose and stashing the gun beneath his pillow. "Now go away."

"But I'm _druuuuunk_!" Ronald whined, heaving himself up onto the bed and hiccupping once more. "Oh my God this bed is the _nicest bed in the world_!"

"Why are you in my mansion?"

"Jesus Christ, I think I want to marry your linens." Ronald splayed out his limbs, rolling around like a recently-caught fish as if he were attempting to absorb the blankets. Ciel attempted to form a coherent sentence, but failed four times.

"Ronald. Get out of my house."

"But I'm _tired_, and I'm _drunk_, and I locked myself out of my flat." The reaper moaned, crawling up next to Ciel.

"So you thought you'd just come here. To some complete stranger's house. To sleep in their bed."

"Yup." Ronald nodded, popping the _p_. He began to cuddle with one of Ciel's goose down pillows. "I gave—I gave'ya my fedora, so I thought it would be fair."

Ciel ignored the complete leaps in logic and climbed out of bed, much to Ronald's dismay.

"_Nooooo!_" He protested, flailing for Ciel with one noodle-like arm. "No, Ciel come back! When I'm drunk I need a cuddle buddy."

Ciel did not comprehend the meaning of cuddle (much to Elizabeth's dismay). Or buddy (much to Soma's dismay). Much less did he comprehend the meaning of the term cuddle buddy, but he knew it could not mean anything good.

"I am giving you three seconds to get out of my bed before I call my butler to rip out your entrails and _feed them to you, Ronald Knox_." Ciel said through gritted teeth, eyes flashing in the darkness. Ronald stared at him dumbly, squinting as if he were attempting to make out some alternative meaning behind the words.

"One."

Ronald stared.

"_Two_."

Ronald closed his eyes.

"_THREE_."

Ronald began to snore and drool on Ciel's favorite pillow. Cursing, the earl raised his hand up to his marked eye, readying to call Sebastian—but at that very time, Ronald began to whimper in his alcohol-induced slumber, flailing at the empty side of the bed. Ciel felt himself deflate, recalling his Russian wolfhound from his youth and the way the dog would wine and flail on his sheets when the child did not join him for a nap.

Ciel grit his teeth, cursing whatever severe lapse in judgment that had come over him and draped an extra sheet over the reaper sleeping on top of his sheets, before he climbed beneath the soft folds and fell into a deep sleep.

**xxxxxxx**

**Night Five**

"Wouldn't ya know my landlord kicked me out?"

Ciel cracked open an eye and glared at Ronald, who was perched on his windowsill, grinning sheepishly. The reaper had managed to disappear halfway through the night, so Ciel had figured that either Sebastian had enough sense to remove him or Ronald had stumbled off for another drunken adventure after getting a few hours of sleep in.

"You are not living in my room."

"Can I live in your mansion?"

"_No_. You are a strange man who climbs in my window every night. I have had less than five minutes' worth of conversation with you. I will not let you live here."

"_Please_?" Ronald asked, putting on his best puppydog impression. Ciel scowled and pointed towards the window.

**xxxxxxx**

**Night Six**

"So I was thinking, if we had a conversation for more than five minutes, would you maybe let me live in your mansion—?"

"Get _out_, Ronald."

"Okay."

**xxxxxxx**

**Night Seven**

"You know it's been a week since we've met?"

"…where are you even living right now?"

"Would it gain your sympathy if I said a ditch?"

Ellipses.

"I'm living on someone's couch."

"Wonderful."

"It's a pretty uncomfortable couch."

"_Ronald_."

"I bet your couches are a lot nicer."

**xxxxxxx**

**Night Eight**

Ciel was genuinely surprised when Ronald did not climb in through his window for the eighth night in a row. He was also genuinely surprised that he had actually been waiting up for the interruption. He was mostly shocked that he felt let down by the reaper's absence.

'_Why_,' Thought Ciel, '_Should I even care?_'

Why had he even let the reaper off so many times? Ciel could have easily shot the reaper or ordered bars to be installed at this point in time! He would have _at least_ tipped Sebastian off to the intrusion!

Granted the butler didn't already know about them… that bastard with his smug grin every morning: '_Don't pretend you aren't already shagging an ex-reaper, Sebastian. I don't need one, too._' Ciel snarled internally, flushing at the thought. '_For God's sake, I don't want to bugger him. I just liked the thought of having someone to talk to_—.'

The earl froze, gripping the bedclothes tightly in his hands. '_Someone who didn't want to talk business, or judge me on my appearance or social status—a completely impartial third party who is strangely amusing_—.'

Ciel jumped upon hearing a tap at his door. Frowning, he cast the sheets from his lap and plodded across the plush carpet. It wasn't like Sebastian to pester him so late at night, unless something was direly wrong. He pushed the door open in a crack.

He went pale.

Sebastian stood on the threshold of the door, smiling eerily in the light of the candelabrum he gripped in his left hand. Standing just behind him with a guilty look on his face was Ronald Knox.

"Hey, Ciel." He waved sheepishly, tucking his arms behind his head. "You know you have a really nice place. I like your creepy family portraits—."

"My lord," Sebastian interrupted, tucking his hand against his chest and dipping into a small bow. "I took it upon myself to give your frequent guest a proper room to board in. I thought I'd alert you to his presence, as to not disturb you in the morning."

Ciel gaped.

"Unless you would like him to spend the night with you, again?" Sebastian's eyes pinched closed like a content cat, his head quirking to one side. Ciel's fingers flexed by his sides as he imagined the demon butler's neck beneath them.

'_What would I be if I could not bring my young master sexual partners_?' He would say smoothly, as if Ciel weren't even bruising his trachea.

**xxxxxxx**

And so, Ronald Knox became a tenant of the Phantomhive manor. However, the strange thing about the agreement was that Ciel rarely saw the young man in the two weeks following the night that Sebastian had given him the room across the hall. Ronald was out of the house before Ciel awoke, and arrived (rather loudly) several hours after Ciel had turned in for the night.

It seemed, perhaps, that this was a lovely agreement altogether. Sebastian could keep tabs on the reapers' workings around London through Ronald, Ciel had one hundred per-cent less bedroom intruders, and the only time Ronald was home he was considerably less destructive than the other members of the household.

But, oddly, towards the end of the first week Ciel began to stay up long after he had laid down to sleep, if only to hear Ronald trip down the hallway and into the bedroom. In no way did he ever wish for a visitor or a conversation. He never held his breath when he heard shuffling outside his door followed by a low sigh.

Ciel was just about to give up on these foolish wishes when he awoke one Saturday morning to find Ronald having breakfast with his wife—_wife _being a loose term Ciel had been forced to adopt for Elizabeth following their marriage two years earlier. It was official in papers, in estate, in everything save for the mutual affection and sexual gratification that usually came along with married couples. Thankfully, Elizabeth had calmed considerably over the years, and was indeed a rather pleasant addition to the household… when Ciel was in an amicable mood, of course. She vastly preferred to keep to her study of the sword and sending letters to her quiet lover (a young man from a wealthy Scottish family), rather than partake in her old pastime of take-the-Mickey-out-of-Ciel.

Though that still did not mean she didn't indulge herself in doing that every so often.

"Ciel!" Lizzy chirped brightly, nearly slinging marmalade off of her knife. She was sitting next to Ronald at the dining table, wearing a house dress of muted blues and ivories. Next to her, Ronald sitting with a matching bonnet placed upon his head, a handful of colourful hatpins jutting from the ribbons and cloth flowers. He looked pathetic, like a puppy having accepted its fate at the hands of an owner who enjoyed dressing it in ridiculous outfits.

"Ronnie and I were just discussing needlework! Sit down, sit down! Sebastian's made pan scones." She gestured towards the cranberry treats still warm in the pan and resumed covering hers with marmalade. "Did you know Ronnie can sew?"

"Sew?" Ciel quipped as he took his seat, staring at the reaper incredulously. Ronald blushed a deep shade of magenta and removed the hat, placing it awkwardly on the table next to Elizabeth.

"Its uh… my mum used to teach me, didn't have any daughters and so she taught me the basics." He began to explain in a rushed mumble. Elizabeth beamed, waving a gloved hand at him flippantly.

"Don't be modest! Ronnie was complementing the pearling on my skirt—do you know he embroiders free hand?"

Ciel was certainly going to find out quite a bit about 'Ronnie' today. Elizabeth proceeded to gush over every detail of their twenty-minute conversation that had transpired before Ciel'd arrived. All the while, Ronald kept quiet and stuffed his face with cranberry scones and tea, tapping nervously on the table and grinding his teeth when he was out of foods to busy his hands and mouth with. All and all, it was one of the more off-putting displays of table manners Ciel had experienced, and that included Soma who insisted on eating curry and naan with his _hands_.

After another five minutes of Elizabeth relaying their conversation, Ciel stood and politely excused himself, surreptitiously inviting Ronald to accompany him to the greenhouse, where Snake was tending to his 'friends'.

"'Good morning young master,' says Emily." The footman lowered his head in a slight bow, stroking the viper beneath its chin. Another serpent curled around his fingers, raising its head as if to observe Ciel's peculiar guest. "'Good morning, Ronald,' says Wilde."

"Mornin'." Ronald grinned, flicking his fingers towards the pale man with a half-salute. He turned to Ciel, who was mumbling 'good morning' to Snake. "Thanks for that save back there; your sister's… really something, Ciel."

"Sister?" The earl quipped, quirking a brow. Ronald frowned.

"Yeah, sister. Elizabeth Phantomhive, right?"

"No," Ciel shook his head. "Elizabeth is my…"

He bit his lip, hesitating on the word '_wife_'—they were only married in the political sense, not in the… _married_ sense.

"Elizabeth is my cousin." He resolved, the truth spilling from his lips messily. Ronald grinned, nodding. Behind him, Snake quirked a brow at Ciel, who promptly sent him a glare that clearly read: '_Shut up_'.

"Ah, I gotcha. You big on extended family then, eh?" He folded his arms behind his head in that nonchalant way that bothered Ciel more than he was ever likely to admit.

"Yes." He replied flatly, still frowning. "Why are you here?"

"Well, uh." Ronald was frowning now, scratching awkwardly at his cheek. "I dunno if you've noticed or not, but I've kinda been… livinghere… for the past two weeks."

Ciel huffed, blowing a stray lock of bangs out from in front of his obscured eye. "I _know_ that, you imbecile. You're usually out all day, however."

"Oh yeah!" The blond shrugged, still grinning brightly. "Would you believe they let me off for the day? I just wanted to take the opportunity to meet the others, since they barely know I exist. And may I just say, that maid of yours is _very_ tidy." He grinned, wriggling his eyebrows at his own entendre. Ciel fought back a scowl and the uncomfortably green pinpricks that crept up into his chest.

"Maylene usually makes more of a mess than what she started with." He shrugged, turning away from Ronald, who began to laugh.

"No, no tidy as in—you know, _attractive_." Ronald all but growled the last word, looping an arm around Ciel's neck and yanking him close. "You can't look me in the eyes and tell me that you've never thought about getting a handful of those knockers, eh?"

Ciel's cheeks flared to an ugly shade of red as he turned on the reaper, sliding from his grasp. "I don't treat my servants like _sex objects_, thank you." He snarled. Ronald frowned, holding up his hands in surrender as if Ciel were about to whip out his Smith & Wesson once more.

"Woah, I—that came out wrong. She's really pretty but I wouldn't—you know I wouldn't _try _anything unless she was interested. She seems pretty sweet and sincere, too I mean—."

For some reason this was making matters no better. In fact, it was just stoking the rage flaring up in Ciel's chest. Eyes narrowed, he turned away from Ronald and stormed out of the greenhouse, leaving behind a very confused reaper and a snake-man shaking his head.

**xxxxxxx**

**Night Twenty-Two**

"_Sebastian_!" Ciel hammered on the door with his right hand as he jiggled the knob open with the other. It was unlike him to degrade himself to traversing the servants' quarters, but he had already been up pacing the halls of the mansion either way. The events from that morning had been replaying themselves since they had transpired, and seemed to have no intentions on letting up. Everything was Ronald's lecherous grin as he complemented Maylene, Ciel's failure to include the tidbit that he was _married_, and an awful scenario his mind had conjured up of Ronald and Maylene.

The scenario was the worst bit. In it, Ronald had the maid pressed up against a wall, tilting back her chin for a deep kiss as one of his hands came up to fondle a breast. It stirred something both foreign and primal deep within Ciel, making his jaw set rigidly and fingers curl into stiff fists. Worse yet, the more he entertained the images of his tenant and his maid, the worse the feeling became. It was not something the earl was accustomed to experiencing, and he refused to put a name to it; hence the pacing in the middle of the night.

"_Yes_, my lord?" Sebastian sighed a bit from within, sounding a tad disappointed.

As the earl threw open the door, his butler turned towards him lazily from where he was seated at his desk, pouring over a copy of a French cookbook. His dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a slice of pale skin that made the earl blush and avert his eyes—before automatically replacing them upon the flesh. Ciel scowled, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"What is that mark?" He inquired, gesturing to an angry puce spot blooming high on the butler's neck. Sebastian frowned, wiping his fingers over the mar and effectively erasing it from his skin.

"A shadow, my lord." He smiled blithely. "Now what may I—?"

Still scowling, Ciel marched across the room to Sebastian's wardrobe, throwing upon the door.

"Earl!" Undertaker grinned from within, stepping out into the demon's bedroom. The white-haired mortician was in a far more disheveled state than Sebastian, lacking everything but his trousers and the leather boots that rode high onto his thighs; red and purple welts covered his scarred chest. "Wot a lovely surprise! 'Ow are you this evening?"

Ciel watched in disbelief as Undertaker promptly plopped down on Sebastian's meticulously un-rumpled bed and propped his chin up on his fist. The earl stared for about several more seconds before turning to his demon and gesturing towards the ex-reaper occupying his bed.

"_What is he doing here_?"

"I believe he's currently sitting on my bed, m'lord." Sebastian answered smoothly, shutting his cookbook and replacing it amongst the others. Ciel's eye twitched before he turned back to Undertaker, flailing flippantly. Undertaker began to giggle, flopping back onto the bed in a mirthful heap.

"Uhu~" He chuckled brightly as Ciel attempted to collect his bearings. "And t'wot do we owe this visit, Earl?"

The young man threw his arms above his head, shaking it—he'd be _damned_ if he could manage to keep both Undertaker and Sebastian's libidos in check (well, certainly more damned then he already was). "I've come to discuss an important issue with Sebastian."

"Oh?" The demon in question quirked his head, eyes brightening a bit as a manic smile touched his lips. From Ciel's other side, Undertaker began to laugh once more, brushing a long nail up the earl's arm.

"Do tell, Earl." He prompted, grinning toothily. Ciel pulled away, still scowling, only to bump into Sebastian as the demon made his way towards the bed. Huffing, the youth planted himself in the desk seat, crossing his arms and staring pointedly at Sebastian's reading collection.

"Go on." Undertaker and Sebastian prompted in tandem, like some sort of two-headed relationship monster. Ciel could _feel_ the bile rolling onto the back of his tongue.

Rather than gag like a petulant adolescent, Ciel turned up his chin and stared at the two. "I believe I'm angry with Ronald." He announced. Sebastian quirked a brow and Undertaker cocked his head, bangs obscuring his eyes. His mouth was drawn into a line.

"Wot did 'e do?"

'_Existed._' Ciel's internal monologue supplied. "He—ah. Displayed an inappropriate… attraction to Maylene."

The two watched him in silence, their expressions unreadable. Ciel coughed, continuing: "I would not think it… proper… incase he—Maylene is a very easily flustered girl and I would not like any inappropriate advances—though she is more than able to make her own decisions concerning her love life, as are any of the other servants and—I should not be as… _upset_ by this fact as I currently am and—."

"So wot you're sayin'," Undertaker interrupted his rant, rolling his chin on his palm to reveal eyes crinkled in amusement. "Is tha you're jealous?"

The word dropped into Ciel's stomach as soon as it rolled off of the Cockney bastard's lips. He stood still for a moment, and he could tell from Sebastian's repressed tremors of laughter that he had pulled a face. Turning bright red, Ciel turned away, crossing his arms over his chest.

"_Why_ would I be jealous? That would be idiotic."

"Hn, perhaps because the thought of that person with someone else perturbs you to no end?" Sebastian purred, hand dropping to Undertaker's knee. Ciel stiffened, uncomfortable with the rising level of familiarity between them.

"That—," Ciel stumbled over his words and thoughts alike, sucking his lower lip between his teeth. "It's simply because they both live here, I don't want Maylene distracted any more than she already is—."

"You're contradicting yourself." A smooth smile rolled onto Sebastian's lips. "Alright, how about this: what about with someone not living in the house?"

He gestured towards Undertaker with a spare hand, and the reaper's lips twitched up into a heated grin. It took about three seconds for the mental image of the white-haired reaper pinning his junior to form in Ciel's mind. It took about half a second for the same, heated roil of not-jealousy to pipe into his bloodstream. The mortician and butler smiled in unison at the sound of the earl's fingers cricking into fists.

"Jealous." Undertaker concluded, his smile broadening. Ciel flushed, lips curling into an angry snarl.

"I am _certainly not jealous_!" He snapped. "That would imply—."

"That you wanted to shag—."

"I DO NOT WANT TO SHAG RONALD!" Ciel screeched, sending a kitten flying out from beneath Sebastian's bed. The earl sneezed, quickly breaking the awkward silence that ensued. The couple upon the bed gaped at him, eyes wide, before Undertaker burst into the most offensively loud laughing fit Ciel had heard in his life. Sebastian clapped his hand over his mouth, outright convulsing.

"W-what?"

"Who said anything about _Ronald_?" Sebastian choked out between chuckles. Undertaker flopped onto his lap, pounding at one of the demon's knees. "We assumed you were jealous over Miss _Maylene_."

Ciel's brain fizzled out as the two continued laughing. It took him until he returned to his bedroom to realize that he had just revealed the extent of his homosexuality to his butler and Godfather. It took him until he reached the bed to realize that he _had_ actually been jealous.

He never fully realized that he wanted Ronald to shag him, because—in truth—he had wanted that all along.

**xxxxxxx**

**Night Twenty-Three**

The next evening, Ciel resolved that he would never succumb to admitting his feelings for the reaper, but couldn't _stand_ the thought of Ronald wooing Maylene. Talking things out like an adult was not an option and the only way to end this shenanigan-waiting-to-happen was through pure, old-fashioned passive aggression. Thusly did he find himself outside of Ronald's room, preparing to kick the reaper out.

Ciel shifted his feet, knocking irritably. When nothing but silence met his ears, he turned the knob, pressing the door open (it was his damn mansion after all). Ronald was clearly not home—the gas lamps were doused, and the rumpled bedding of the four-post bed was clearly unoccupied. Ciel frowned, glancing around the room. Mussed bedclothes aside, the room itself was empty, save for a small tangle of thread and cloth on the desk. Only then did it occur to him how many hours Ronald worked a day. Perhaps he did not have much time to dirty the room with personal effects. This struck the earl as strangely sad. Someone like Ronald should have had a room full of pictures of his friends, family, and coworkers. Instead, there was nothing but the folds of cloth on his desk.

Ciel sat, calling light to the desk's oil lamp with a soft _snick_ of the switch. Amber light poured over the corner of the room, revealing a deep red image on the white cloth before him. Tentatively, he took the embroidery into his hands, observing the intricately-crafted silhouettes. The loops and patterns had no real sense or meaning to them, they just expanded over the cloth in a methodical way—perhaps this was how Ronald wound down for the evening, much like Ciel did with a cup of tea.

"Ciel? What're you doing in my room?"

The earl leapt in shock, dropping the cloth and turning towards Ronald. The reaper stood in the doorway, tie loosened around his neck, and blazer thrown over his arm. His glasses were beginning to slip onto his nose, and his eyes looked bleary with exhaustion. "I mean, I'm not complaining since I used to break into your room all the time—but…?" He paused, tilting his head as he waited for an explanation. Ciel cleared his throat, recalling the speech about unwanted advances on his innocent maid and referrals to upscale flats in the heart of the city. Instead, the words caught in his throat as he thought of Ronald's dogged attempts to engage him in conversation again and again, about the empty corners of the room, and the long days working.

"I wanted to see if you were busy this evening," Ciel spoke without thinking. "Perhaps we could engage in conversation or—erm, partake in one of your favorite pastimes. Do something socially amusing."

Ronald gaped, blinking the half-sleep from his eyes. "Uh? You mean, like, go out?"

"Yes." Ciel agreed, unsure of what this entailed. "Go out."

The blonde-and-raven man's confusion and weariness seemed to clear immediately, replaced with a bright smile. "Really? Ah, guv that would be _excellent_!" He marched over to the earl, clapping a hand on his shoulder before pushing past him. "We'll have to get you a change of clothes, though—no one's gonna want someone dressed so prissy in a pub—."

"P-prissy?" Ciel sputtered, watching and Ronald threw open the doors to his wardrobe and began to dig around. "_Pardon _me?"

"I mean, 'm sure you look fine in _your_ social scene, but you'll get a boot to the head if you walk into a pub dressed like—." He glanced at Ciel in his red-and-maroon house coat. "Well, uh. Like that."

Ciel shuffled, his nose wrinkling in offense as Ronald threw down a dress shirt, black vest, and pants onto his bed. He had come in intending to kick the damn man out, and now not only was he being dragged out at an ungodly hour and redressed in _peasant clothing_, but Ronald had called him _prissy_.

Ciel certainly had to rethink his choices and decisions in the future.

But alas, he went along with this particular decision, slipping into the provided clothing that was just too small for Ronald, blushing appreciatively when the reaper turned to let him change.

"Well, let's see!" The other man quipped, turning on his heel as soon as Ciel had stopping fumbling with his buttons. A grin overtook his expression. "_Very_ nice. Just switch your eye patch out for a cotton one, you look like a pirate."

Ciel drew the line there. "I do _not_ look like a pirate." Why was he going along with his, again?

"Right." Ronald agreed a bit too quickly. "But even if you keep the patch, something's missing—ah!" He snapped, barreling through his doors and across the hall, finally bursting into Ciel's bedroom. The earl sputtered once more, following Ronald as he went. Within several moments of searching, the reaper had popped out of Ciel's closet and was holding the odd hat that he had gifted to the earl.

"There!" He grinned, slamming the fedora onto Ciel's head before stepping back to admire his work, propping up his chin with his forefinger and thumb. "Awesome."

"Wonderful." Ciel glowered, feeling about as awesome as a fish flopping on the ground. "May we _go_ now?"

"Sure thing." Ronald nodded, ever so cheerful and peppy; he proceeded to cross the room and threw open the window. Meanwhile, Ciel was seriously beginning to evaluate his life choices—especially those in the prospectively-romantic department.

**xxxxxxx**

"One has not truly traveled until they have traveled on the back of a motorized lawn trimmer." Ronald had said as soon as he introduced Ciel to his Deathscythe. Certainly it traveled fast, but for first-time riders, it left a lasting impression of weak knees and spinning scenery. Ciel tripped into Ronald's side, using one arm to prop himself up on the brick building. Ronald chuckled sheepishly, propping the earl up and rubbing little circles onto his shoulder. Ciel resisted the urge to keen into the feeling, feebly batting the reaper away instead.

"Sorry, guv. I should've warned you about that part." He clapped his hand onto Ciel's shoulder once more. "You good to go?"

"As I'll ever be." The younger of the two grumped, righting himself and following Ronald into the pub.

The stench of alcohol and cigar smoke hit Ciel like a wall the second he walked into the building, a barrage of laugher and loud conversation assaulting his ears next. Scantily-clad women were propped up against walls, lounging on bar tops and in the laps of grinning drunks. Some shadier aristocrats occupied the corners of the establishment, smoking and leering at the exposed legs of the call girls. Several pairs of eyes locked onto Ciel the moment he made his way in, a group of girls huddling together close as the giggled and pointed.

"Ronnie!" A hearty voice shouted from behind the counter, a burly Irishman lumbered over, reaching across the bar for a handshake. Ronald smiled, allowing his hand to be caught up in the large man's grip. "Good t'see you, m'boy!" He paused to grin at Ciel. "And who's yer friend?"

"Ah!" Ronnie turned to the earl, throwing his arm around him and yanking him to his side. "Barkeep, this is my friend Ciel!"

"Ciel," The barkeeper frowned, his great red brow furrowed as he glanced at Ronald in worry. "Now Ronnie, you know how I feel about the French."

"Oh, don't worry, he isn't French!" Ronald beamed, giving Ciel's arm a squeeze. "Isn't that right, Ciel?"

"_Je t'encule_."

"Isn't he funny?" Ronald beamed at the barkeeper, who sighed and resumed wiping the counter with a rag that was probably doing more harm than good. Ronald turned and shot Ciel a look that was more amused than it was harassed and promptly ordered two pints of beer. Before Ciel could protest, the barkeep had poured out two frothing mugs and sent them sliding down the bar. Ronald easily snagged his by the handle as it threatened to sail by, but Ciel clumsily fumbled his and found it buffered on the thigh of one of the countertop hussies. The blonde smiled and collected the drink into her spindly hands, pressing it into Ciel's own; he thanked her quietly, all but squeaking when she yanked him close by the mug's handle.

"You 'ave a moment, guv?" She husked into his face, her breath warm and reeking of spirits. Ciel watched in horror as she began to hike the hem of her skirt up her thigh. "I won't charge much for a cute one like you."

Suddenly, a stray limb was intervening in her assault and Ciel yanked the beer back, nearly spilling it in the process. The interfering arm gave way to Ronald's torso as he propped himself up on the counter, grinning at the harlot. "Thanks for the offer, but he isn't interested."

The whore pouted, tugging playfully on Ronald's cowlick. "For certain?"

"Most certainly." He nodded gravely, patting her thigh in a familiar way. The whore's pained smile broadened as her eyes twitched from Ciel to Ronald and back. She then proceeded to climb down from the bar and join the giggling gaggle of women across the pub, jutting her head in to place a remark. In unison, they are turned towards Ronald and Ciel, smiled, and turned back towards one another, their laughter reaching shrill pitches.

"What are they laughing at?" Ciel scowled, bringing the drink to his lips. He winced as the bitter fluid hit his tongue, and he fought to swallow the ale. Ronald shrugged, clapping him on his back and causing the earl to sputter.

"Not sure. C'mon then, drink up!" He prompted, clinking their mugs together before draining his own. Ciel watched in a mixture of awe and disgust as the reaper slammed down a handful of money and refilled his mug while saying something to the earl about 'covering it'. Suddenly, it struck Ciel that Ronald—who worked awful hours and hardly had any time for personal effects, let alone socializing—was paying for his drinks. Feeling awful, he drowned the mug to the best of his ability, wincing and gagging when he slammed the empty mug on the counter.

His stomach roiled when another filled mug slid down the bar.

**xxxxxxx**

Sometime during the night, the two had slouched into a corner booth, Ciel wobbling uncertainly into his seat as one of the trollop girls played with his hair. Ronald had one on his lap, but she seemed more content with gigging and questioning him than having her muff split.

"So 'ow long've you known each other?" She asked, pointing to the earl slouched on the table, who was struggling to keep his eyes open. The whore petting his hair propped him up, kissing his brow.

"Us? Uh, well I moved in about two weeks ago." The young man in question replied, ticking the days off of his fingers. The girls gasped and squealed with laughter; Ronald's girl gripped his hands in excitement. Ciel decided that he did not like that and made a face, in hopes that it would deter her.

"You're _living_ together?" The busty hussy petting Ciel inquired, mirthfully gazing at them in turn. "Oh how _delicious_. Do you share a bed?"

"Uh." Said Ronald. Ciel snorted in laughter.

"Once, when he was piss-drunk he crawled into my bed wanting to cuddle." He slurred, the girls shrieked with laughter again. Ronald blushed, ducking his head down so low that his glasses nearly fell off of his nose.

"Not a cuddler, eh? Rough'n tumble boy!" The woman on Ciel's left grinned, giving him a little squeeze. "Hn, how about a show for little Joanna and I?" She asked, gazing at her companion. Joanna—the girl in Ronald's lap—clapped happily.

"Oh yes, we'd certainly _love_ that!" She remarked, beaming at Ronald and Ciel in turn. She pouted at their confused stares. "Oh _please_?"

"A show?" Ciel repeated slowly, unsure of what they were asking for. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, certainly you know." The hair-petter crooned. "Would you like us to go demonstrate?"

"By all means." Ciel ordered, watching realization, joy, and then horror bloom over Ronald's face from across the table. Joanna climbed from his lap, gesturing towards her friend.

"Come here, Nell." She requested huskily, sliding around the corner of the booth and pressing up against Ciel. Suddenly, Nell was turning into the earl, taking the other woman's face into her hands. Ciel, sitting with his back pressed against the plush seating, watched as their lips met about six inches from his own. Ronald released a low _unf_ from below his breath, straightening in his seat. The girls lapped at each other's lips for a solid minute, breaking away lightly. The earl watched in confusion as they pulled apart, Joanna dragging him around the booth. For a moment he found himself in her lap before he was tumbling over the other side into Ronald's arms.

"Your turn~" Nell prompted, her voice low as Ciel righted himself, Ronald's hands clasping his arms firmly. Ciel raised his eyes to Ronald's odd chartreuse ones, his heart hammering a steady pulse in his throat. They expected them to kiss—!

Before the thought could even finish processing, Ronald's lips were upon his and the girls were howling in joy. The kiss was anything but delicate—their teeth clicked against one another with bruising force, Ronald's tongue lapping artlessly against Ciel's. The earl allowed him access without complaint, tipping his head back into cupping hands, whimpering when Ronald's teeth grazed his lips, sucked his tongue into his mouth with nearly-painful pressure, flitted it against Ciel's and lapped greedily around his lips. Ciel's hands sought purchase, fisting the sleeves of Ronald's blazer and tugging him closer, moaning wantonly in a way he would never allow himself to do sober.

However passionate, the kiss was short-lived. Ronald pulled back moments later, wiping the saliva from his mouth with the back of his sleeves; Ciel whimpered, lapping at his numb and reddened lips. Joanna and Nell were clapping and giggling at the other end of the table. For a moment, Ciel's breath hitched as the situation processed before he slunk into a blur.

**xxxxxxx**

"You can stay in here tonight." Ronald said, propping Ciel up on the pillows. The earl was gazing around his tenant's darkened room, hands still securely fisted in the reaper's blazer. "You're pretty deep in the horrors, my friend."

"Not drunk." Ciel protested, glaring at the ceiling. Ronald chuckled, ruffling his hair.

"Right. And you're also the queen of England." Ronald turned as he climbed off the bed, dragging a blanket along with him, which he draped about his shoulders like a cape. He dipped into a bow, which Ciel returned with an incline of his head. "Your majesty! You shouldn't be drinking this much at your age!"

"Sod off, I'm the bloody queen of England." Ciel retorted with a snort. "You can't tell me what to do."

Ronald laughed, grabbing a pillow and crashing down on the floor. "You're pretty funny when you're drunk." There was a pause. "And a good kisser."

Ciel hummed lowly, rolling to the side of the bed. Ronald was curled on the floor in his blanket, elbow propped up on the pillow. "You think?" He earl asked.

"I don't think, guv," He replied. "I _know_."

World spinning, Ciel groped for Ronald's tie, yanking him up for another heated kiss. The reaper gasped into his mouth before fisting a hand in his hair, pulling away almost immediately. "Ciel you're drunk."

"We should shag." Ciel was finding that his drunken self did not have many reservations.

Ronald made a choked noise, pressing up for another brief kiss. "I—yeah, we'll shag, Ciel. I promise. We'll shag later, but you're really drunk right now and I'd feel awful if I took advantage of you."

"Ronnie?"

The reaper grinned, pecking Ciel's forehead and peeling him off. "It sounds so cute when you say it."

Ciel laughed, flopping limply onto the bed, one arm cast over the side. "Thank you. Goodnight Ronnie."

"G'night, Ciel."

**xxxxxxx**

**Night Twenty-four**

Ciel wanted to curl up in a hole and die.

In fact, this was for a number of reasons—drunken kiss and request to be shagged notwithstanding. He had woken up in Ronald's bed in a puddle of his own drool, head pounding so hard that he could feel it in his eyeballs. After several aborted attempts to walk, he had been forced to crawl across the floor and into his bedroom, where it occurred to him that he could've just had Sebastian carry him there. Several minutes on the floor regretting this decision later, his stomach had begun to roil and Ciel found himself in the loo, embracing the toilet as if it were his closest companion. Eventually, Sebastian had found him and put him back to bed, where he remained miserably slipping in and out of consciousness for the rest of the day.

Even now, with a considerably smaller ache in his head, and throat no longer burning with bile, Ciel simply wanted to die. He sat on his bed, knees curled close to his chin as he watched his door. Ronald would be home within minutes, and Ciel would kick him out. Things had grown to be ridiculous enough and the night before was the last nail in the coffin. The earl couldn't continue on with Ronald under his roof after knowing how much of a fool he had made himself out to be.

And so he sat, watching the door like a hawk and awaiting the telltale sounds of Ronald tripping down the hallway to reach his ears.

Instead, the window clicked open behind him.

Ciel turned, watching as Ronnie tumbled in onto the floor, grasping the gifted fedora in his right hand. "You forgot it at the bar," He was explaining. "I wanted to go back and get it for you because—."

At that time, Ronald could not provide a reason, for Ciel had lifted him up from the floor and was kissing him sloppily. With a strange noise, they broke apart, Ronald wide-eyed. The reaper shook his head, eyes pinched closed. "Uh. You're welcome?"

In your life, there will not be many people who tumble into your bedroom through the window. There will not be someone who cares that much about a damn hat. There will not be many people so carefree and selfless that they have to resort to crawling into the window of a complete stranger just to get a friend. There will be few people who will satisfy your random requests to go out drinking, no questions asked. You will not meet many people who see you and treat you strictly as a person, and not as your social status dictates. You will probably never meet someone who travels via lawn trimmer. And in that moment, Ciel figured that he would never meet another living being like Ronald Knox, and ought to own up to his feelings before he ended up doing something else idiotic.

Ronnie opened his eyes, looking worried. "Ciel?"

Ciel stared at him pointedly: "I believe you made me a promise last night, Ronald." The earl said, unfastening the buttons of his nightshirt as he flopped back down onto his bed.

Ronald, still sitting on the floor, grinned and took to his feet immediately. He was about to discover firsthand that Ciel's bed was truly the nicest bed in the world.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> Happy Birthday Marina! :D I hope you enjoy it! As always, thank you so much for your friendship and for your never-ending support of Broken Pieces and my other works! I know that this crack!ship is one of your favorites and that there isn't much RonaldXCiel in the fandom, so hopefully this helps to satisfy your need a bit! The story pretty much just popped into my head last week before finals and has been quite fun to write! I hope everyone enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it!


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